“Fine,” she says softly.
I take her hand, noticing how smooth and soft her skin feels beneath my fingers. I rub the cream gently onto her left middle finger, then grab a small bandage and wrap it carefully around the burn. I briefly blow on her finger to help the cream dry faster. When I look up, I catch her blushing—and I realize I’m really starting to enjoy seeing that color rise to her cheeks.
I finish wrapping the bandage around her finger. “All done. Probably not as good as you would’ve done it yourself, but hopefully it doesn’t hurt anymore.”
“Thank you. You did a pretty good job,” she says, offering a soft smile.
We stare at each other for a few seconds. She swallows, stands, and heads back into the kitchen, probably to finish making lunch. I clean up the first-aid kit and slide it back under the sink.
When I step out of the bathroom, I see her coming out of the kitchen with two plates. She sets the sandwiches on the coffee table and takes a seat on the couch. Her gaze drops to the remote, clearly debating whether to change the channel. I have a finance station on—it’s become routine whenever I’m working.
“You can change it if you want,” I tell her, walking over and sitting down next to her on the couch.
“It’s alright. I don’t want to interrupt your work.”
“I have it on as background noise. I promise I won’t be mad if you change it.” She still hesitates, so I grab the remote and flip through the channels until highlights from last night’s game appear. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask me to changeit or keep it, so I leave it here. The channel stays on as I continue working.
“What are you working on?” she asks, breaking the silence.
“Some contracts for your brother.” She looks over at me with her soft green eyes, like she wants me to say more, and I almost feel transfixed by her. I don’t stop talking. “He wants to purchase a building, but someone came in at the last minute and put in another bid, so we’re working to secure the deal.”
She nods in agreement, clearly not understanding all of it, but listening anyway. I turn back to my laptop and continue reviewing and editing.
“Is there anything I can help with? I’m not a lawyer like you, but I like to read.”
“I’m sorry—I can’t let anyone look at this stuff outside of the people involved in the deal.” I feel bad saying no, but she seems to realize almost immediately that there’s not much she can do. She doesn’t respond.
She gathers our empty plates and carries them into the kitchen to clean them. I hear her rustle through the kitchen, opening up and closing cabinet doors. Something’s frustrating her. A moment later, she lets out a sigh.
“I don’t have a lot of food,” she says softly, irritation creeping into her voice. “Well, not enough for two people. I usually go grocery shopping on Mondays, but I was on call and I didn’t have time.”
“We don’t have to lock ourselves in here. We can go out and do things. I’ll be done with this in a bit, and if you want, we could grab some food and stop by the grocery store.”
She nods. “I’m going to lie down for a bit. I normally sleep during the day.”
She leaves the living room and walks into her room, softly closing the door.
My mother once told me that the person you’re meant to bewith will show up when you least expect it. That’s how she met my father. She was working as a waitress when she served him, fresh off a brutal breakup earlier that same morning, not looking for anyone at all. My dad pursued her for weeks before she finally agreed to go on a date with him. The rest is history—they got married, and then had me.
I never thought I wanted that. Marriage. The whole thing. I’m not someone who enjoys being around a lot of people, and as an only child, I’ve always been used to my own space. The closest thing I’ve ever had to a brother is Gino. And now, somehow, there’s the very real possibility that I could end up marrying his sister.
Kevin and Lucy did a good job raising her, at least in my opinion. She’s quiet, though. I realize she barely spoke at dinner last night. I think that’s partly because everything happened so fast, and I’m certain it was her first shootout.
If Gino really wants me to get to know her, and possibly marry her, I’m going to have to help draw her out of her shell.
NINE
VANESSA
Fortunately, I have some great coworkers who can cover my shifts for the next few days, because I need time to wrap my head around all of this. I rush out of the living room, already feeling overwhelmed by having someone else in my space. I know I shouldn’t be—but I am. I’ve grown so used to being alone here that having someone else in my apartment feels strange, almost intrusive.
By the time Mateo wraps up his work for the day, it’s dinnertime for most people. “Did you still want to get some dinner and groceries?” I ask.
“Sure,” he replies. He stands from the couch and slides his computer and the files he’s been working on into a laptop bag.
I rush to grab my purse, and when I turn toward the door, he’s already there, holding it open. He’s not rushing me, but the look on his face makes it feel like he’s staring at a painting—like he’s admiring a view. The closest grocery store is only a few minutes’ walk from my apartment building, and we head there in a comfortable silence.
Once we enter the store, I move to grab a cart, but before I can, Mateo takes it from me. “I got it,” he says, already walking ahead.
